


It Ain't Easy

by pushupindrag



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternative Universe - Mafia, Canon-Typical Violence, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Prostitution, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4370699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushupindrag/pseuds/pushupindrag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes is head of the Barnes Famiglia, the most feared Mafia gang in Brooklyn. After moving to America four years previously, he finds a man in the gutter beaten to near death. He takes him in, and the ungracious guest is revealed to be a runaway prostitute from opposing Mafia gang Hydra by the name of Steve Rogers. </p>
<p>(Rating/tags may be changed/added to)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blue and Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write something like this for a long time, but it's always just become a little thing to write in between other works so I don't get writers block. This has been sitting in my documents for just little under half a year, so I thought I would post it so it would stop looking at me. Updates wont be frequent, and it's more of a thing that 'I'll get back to eventually' when I finish up my first chaptered fic. But here it is anyways.
> 
> Story Title: David Bowie  
> Chapter title: The Used
> 
> I have a tumblr [here](http://buckybdarnes.tumblr.com/) if you wanna check that out.
> 
> Un'beted so any mistakes are my own, please tell me if you find any.
> 
>  
> 
> _Note: Homophobic slurs are used in the last paragraph by Bucky in reference to himself as the story is set in 1926 and being gay at the time was illegal and looked down upon._

It was freezing. Enough so that Bucky could see his breath on the air, and his fingers were threatening to drop off despite the gloves, scarf and large wool coat he had on. He didn’t know what was happening to the weather, considering it was the beginning of autumn and the winds had been picking up bitterly since the turn of October.

He scowls at the cold but carries on his walk regardless, mindful of the two guards behind him. He could give them the slip if he wanted, and he didn’t need them. But that was the compromise he and Dugan, his underboss, had agreed on. He could go for a peaceful hours walk once a week if he had two body guards tailing him. It was better than no walk at all.

He cherished his walks. It gave him time to collect his thoughts, sort out the important things from those that could be overlooked without a million calls clouding his judgement, or elders trying to muscle their way in to a rapidly modernising way of life. The mafia was changing, adapting with the times and Bucky was heavily paving the way forward.

Cracking his knuckles, both metal and flesh, he pulls out a cigarette, lighting it before taking an appreciative breath, continuing his walk. He goes down a side road, one leading out of the park where he had just been to take a different route back to the cars. He doesn’t want to leave the golden colours of the trees, but he couldn’t stay still or stagnant for too long. His guards were there for protection after all, and it wouldn’t do for him to make their job any harder. Walking still, he takes another breath, curling his lips into a smile at the warmth the smoke brings him before both the cigarette and his facial features drop.

There was a body in the gutter. One that Bucky wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole if it wasn’t making hurt gasping noises. Now, Bucky may have been one of the most vicious and prominent mafia bosses of his time, but he wasn’t completely heartless despite his murderous reputation. So he drops to his knees, lifting the body up by the shoulders to rest the bloodied head onto his lap  
  
“Shhh, it’s going to be okay” he assures, moving hair out of the persons eyes to see that the frail frame belonged to a man. He blinks stupidly once, before looking the man over.

It looked like a botched hit. Cuts and broken bones harsh enough that they were made with the intent to kill, but not enough in number to actually get the job done. There were bruises blossoming all over the man’s body, and the clothes he wore were barely scraps of fabric. They were not even enough to keep the cold out, never mind a severe beating.  
  
“Who did this to you?” Bucky snarls, a wave of protectiveness overcoming him. He didn’t understand why the small man was near dead. He didn’t look the type to be a snitch or a rat, and through the blood and bruises he looked innocent. The only answer he gets is a gurgle of blood so he sits the man up properly so that he can hack up over the side of Bucky’s knees. Splattering blood onto the concrete of the pavement. Leaving trails of it on the edges of Bucky’s knees as the man rolls his head back into Bucky’s lap. Eyes still closed, face passive and close to unconsciousness.

"John, bring the car around and Frank, run ahead to get one of the spare rooms set up. We’ll need a medic kit, and try and get Banner over." It’s not a question, but a command that the two men snap to.

They run off, following orders as Bucky lifts the man bridal style and stands, cradling him carefully. The small man was wheezing and coughing, he sounded as bad as he looked. Worse, if that was even possible. Bucky was worrying, it was hard not to with a dying man in his arms. But he keeps his breathing even and his head clear. There had been worse, he had seen and done worse. This was nothing.

Bucky waits until the car’s pulled around so he can get the man into the back of it, cursing the low seats as he nearly bashes his head as he gets into the back too, keeping his head elevated in case the man needs to cough anything more up. They don’t. It’s a short drive, one filled with nothing but the man’s laboured breathing as he fitfully tries to keep living.

"Leave" Bucky commands as he storms through his home and up to the bedroom he knows will be prepared.

He’s answered with variations of “Yes Don Barnes” and “Yes Coro” As those but Dugan and Dr Banner file out.

Wincing at the name he lays the man down, rapidly stepping away from the bed so Banner can get to work. The new last name sounded so… English, they were not allowed to proudly bare his gang’s true last name anymore for fear of the American government subjecting them back to the fucker Mussolini, who had been in power now for six years. The name change had happened while his father was still in charge two years ago but it still smarted. Nobody else seemed affected, but his own pride wouldn’t let it go. He knew it was futile, but it didn’t stop him.

"He seems to have three broken ribs, a fractured sternum, his right leg has been smashed and his left wrist is also broken. There are no signs of internal bleeding but he has many abrasions on his stomach, arms and chest and his legs are bruised" Banner reels off, finishing cleaning the blood off the man’s face and head a good ten minutes later "I have been able to stitch up the head wound but he needs bed rest and plenty of fluids. I have put him on a low dose of morphine for the time being but will have to give more for you to administer until his leg has fully healed. Unless Stark can take a look he may never walk properly again." The grave tone in his voice sobered the room as he shuffled out, probably to get in touch with Stark.

Tony Stark was a bastard by all accounts, running one of the more successful prostitute rings off his father’s dwindling inheritance. But he was generally a good man, his workers were safe and healthy, and most of his money came from his genius mind. He was a robotics engineer, and told anybody he could that he was ‘well beyond their time’. He had single handedly built Bucky’s new arm after it had been blasted off in a fight gone wrong, something his men dubbed 'the accident' and the one thing they wouldn't talk about at all if they didn't have to. The arm itself was a little clunky, but it worked moderately well. He could move his hand as if it were flesh and bone and it never malfunctioned at the wrong moments. It was a fine piece of work.

Dr Banner, much to everybody’s surprise, was one of Tony’s close associates. He had worked exclusively with the Barnes gang and offshoots for as long as Bucky could remember. In return for his service, Barnes provided protection and a place to go if he ever needed it. Banner was extremely good at what he did, which was why Bucky let himself breathe easy once Banner had given his verdict. It wasn’t the best news, but the man wasn’t going to die which was good enough.

Bucky turns his attention to the room, the man was asleep, the drugs seemed to have kicked in quickly while Dugan stands off to the side.  
  
“He’s Hydra, he can’t stay here long” Dugan grunts, looking a little remorseful at the thought.  
  
“How do you mean?” Gesturing to the sleeping man’s arm, Dugan points to where a band had once been, it looked scrubbed raw but it was still visible. Scarred white skin standing out oddly against the man’s own pale flesh. The Hydra logo. “This means that he wasn’t there willingly though” He points out, Hydra got matching tattoos willingly of their logo, branding was a different story.  
  
“That doesn’t mean they won’t want him back though.”  
  
“Okay fine” Bucky pinches his nose at the bridge. Of course this would happen on one of this nice and relaxing walks, of course. “He gets better and then he leaves.”  
  
“Of course Coro” Dugan smiles, it not quite reaching his eyes, before he leaves to resume his duties. Dugan was a good man. The caporegime got along with him famously, and together with Bucky they had gotten to be known amongst some circles as the Howling Commando's. He hated being their Don, they were friends first and foremost. But nothing could be done now.

“Guard his door” He instructs the soldiers outside as he leaves, one being Morita who was part of the Howling Commandos, who just winks at him “If he wakes I want you to come and get me."  
  
“Yes Don Barnes.”  
  
“Thank you.”

He proceeds to his study, hell bent on finishing up the paperwork he had started before his walk. It was mainly to do with the gang’s income and expenditures. He collapses into his desk chair, leather creaking and showing its old age. He liked his study, and spent more time in it than his bedroom considering. It wasn’t large, but it held everything he needed to get his gang in order. There were files on each of his men, a log book dedicated to warrants from the police and threats of arrest. Nothing was happening currently, there had been a minor incident with one of the children who had stolen a handful of sweets. But their mother had taken care of it, feigning ignorance of the gang and its ways. The police were too stupid to figure out that the women were nearly as involved as the men, and couldn’t be trusted at all. Bucky was happy to rely on their stupidity.

There’s a list of names to his right that’s steadily getting longer as he worked out the debt owed to the family. Three people needed threatening, one shot, and another scared. The others just needed reminding. He himself would go and shoot the one who needed it, and threaten the other. But he would leave the scaring and reminding to his men, they were more than capable of doing so. And right now he had other things on his mind. Normally it would be the safety of his familgia, or the upcoming law suits or threats from the police and FBI. Today though, he can’t seem to get the man off his mind, so he sets aside the paperwork once he’s finished. Letting himself stew.

The man had been branded property of Hydra, which meant that he was probably not exactly part of the gang, why Pierce called his familgia Hydra he had no idea, and more of an accessory. Maybe a prostitute or staff member. What didn’t seem to fit was why the man was on the side of the road nearly dead. Once Hydra, always Hydra. There was no way out of the Mafia, but if the blonde wasn’t fully part of the gang then he must have done something to warrant his demise. Bucky just couldn’t figure out what.

"Coro?" A voice asks after a knock on the door "He’s awake." Bucky had been going over the numbers again, making sure that everybody had their pay and would get their cut at the end of the month, Everything seemed to be in order.  
  
“Thank you Morita” He acknowledges, getting up to stride from the room. Squaring his shoulders as he reaches the bedroom door, his stride carried the weight of needing answers.

Once inside the bedroom, now dimly lit as the curtains were closed, Bucky lets his eyes adjust before looking at the large bed where the man had propped himself up. He was glaring, staring around. Pain medication obviously wearing thin.  
  
“Where am I?” He demands, glaring straight at Bucky “You can’t keep me here. I don’t give a shit what Pierce thinks” Oh, he was a mouthy one.  
  
“You’re in my home.” Bucky cuts across the man’s renewed complaints, words dying in the blonde’s mouth “I am Don Barnes, and I have been kind enough to take you off the streets.” He didn’t like this new tone of voice he had acquired. It was a cold one, one that permitted no arguing or second thought. It was emotionless. It got the job done. “I have had you looked at by doctors and you were close to death. Now tell me” He cocks his hip, arms crossing as he stares down at the frail man “Why you have the nerve to talk to me like you just did. I show you hospitality and that is what you do?”  
  
“Fuck you” The man gasps, coughing violently. Bucky has to hold back the urge to go over and coddle him, tuck him under the sheets and worry over him. It was odd, this feeling of caring. He didn’t feel it with anybody else. So why had this gobby man changed that? “Put me back on the streets if you fucking have to."  
  
“And have your death be blamed on me? No chance.” Bucky doesn’t break his stance, or his glare as he stands in the doorway, but he laughs with something clear and icy in his throat. It was not a nice laugh. “I don’t want to be sought out by Pierce for harming his…” A sneer, one he doesn’t like but makes himself use “property.”

It was talk like this that got him where he was, fighting smarm that could scare people half to death with its casual lilt and deathly threats. A mixture of stern and a hint of Brooklyn that broke through every now and then, no matter how hard he tried to tamp it down. The loss of endings made him seem uneducated, he had to speak better, and be better if he wanted rival gangs to fear him, and the elders see him for the Don he was.

“I am no-one’s property. Not anymore” The blonde coughs again, reclining back onto his pillows. Glare still lighting his eyes.  
  
“What’s your name?” Bucky asks “It’s only courtesy to give your own name when someone offers you theirs.”  
  
“You didn’t give me any damn name.” Bucky wants to smile down at the kid, because he can’t be more than a kid, probably a few years younger than Bucky's twenty four.  
  
“Don Barnes, head of the Barnes Familglia. Friends call me Bucky,” His cockiness was a put on, his smirk, fake. But he would do what he had to. “Now tell me what your name is, punk.”  
  
“Steve Rogers” Steve’s voice was gruff, and he looked reluctant from under his glare “Not that that’s any of your fucking business.”  
  
“How old are you Steve Rogers?”  
  
“Old enough!”  
  
“Old enough to be in with Hydra?” Bucky tries to get right to it without addressing the question properly as he usually would, he didn’t think Steve Rogers would take to his usual line of  questioning lightly.  
  
“Old enough to not need to tell you shit."   
  
“So judging by your petulant manner I’m gonna place you at sixteen? Possibly seventeen at a push.” He knew it was a low blow, the boy was obviously older, but probably not by much.  
  
“I’m twenty three” Steve sneers “But you aren’t the only one to poke at my age. Ten out of ten for creativity.” Bucky ignores the jab.  
  
“It got me answers didn’t it?” He raises an eyebrow, making his smirk widen as Steve blushes scarlet, eyes casting down for a second before glaring back up from underneath his eyebrows. “Now, tell me what you were doing with Hydra?”  
  
“Prostitute” Steve throws his head back, looking down his nose as best he can with a blood stained cough and wheezing lungs “I was unwillingly kept under their care.” The sneer is harsh as Steve growls the end of his sentence out, sarcastic and bitter in the air.  
  
“I hear his workers are valued, to an extent. Always in need of a good fuck over at the place.”  
  
“So what?” Steve doesn’t look as fearful as his voice sounds “You’re gonna brand me here too?”  
  
“No, Steve. We won’t rape you here. You are not a sex worker here. What you are, is a treat to dangle in front of Pierce’s nose. You know how he feels about losing one of his pets?”  
  
“I wasn’t lost, I ran away” Steve’s eyes have lit up again, the fire back behind them when he realises he’s in no immediate danger. Bucky would never force that on anyone. The Barnes’ were not like that, and would never hold such loose morals. If one of the gang members needed to get off then they would go to Stark. At least those workers were treated fairly and Bucky knew they were safe at the end of the day.

“Look.” Bucky drags the desk chair around, sitting on it backwards with his arms folded on the back. “I have been gracious enough to take you in. I am assuming they beat you half to death because you ran away.” He waits, eyes focused on the man in bed who eventually nods.  
  
“They didn’t do the best job.”  
  
“No, they did not. However, they left you with three broken ribs and a broken wrist, your sternum is fractured and your right leg had been smashed to pieces. You also have bruising and abrasions everywhere else. I’ve bought Stark and Banner in to set your leg, and with time that should heal. However, until that does heals and you get better. I have taken the liberty to keep you under the Barnes protection. After that it is up to you to choose where you want to go. However, I will not let your death be my problem. Are we clear?”  
  
“And what if I say no?”  
  
“I hand you back to Pierce so he can kill you himself.” There’s a flash of fear behind Steve’s eyes that doesn’t go away until he shakes it clear from his mind. There’s a small pause before he nods.  
  
“Okay. I’ll stay.”  
  
“Excellent, now sleep. Banner has given me more morphine to administer when you next wake. Stark should be here in the morning.” Bucky claps his hands together, standing up to set the chair back neatly against the desk. He goes to walk out, but stops at the last minute.  
  
“I don’t care for you talking to me that way, but I will accept it given the position you’re in. But if you dare talk to my men like that or disrespect them in any way I will have you hanged. Am I making myself clear?”  His hand holds him in the doorway, gripping onto the door frame.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Good. Now goodnight.”

This attraction he felt for Steve, because that was what it was, would pass. He knew it would. It had to. He couldn’t be queer. He wasn’t allowed to be queer, especially given his position. This was something he had to hide and nip in the bud. Bucky wasn’t allowed to feel attraction. It was illegal. He just hoped Steve being in the house would not change that.


	2. (truth be told) I Never Was Yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, coming back to this almost exactly a year later. Wow. Sorry about that. I have been super busy with college and writing other things. And I haven't had it in me to write anything serious, but i'm gonna try!
> 
> Chapter Title: Panic! at the Disco
> 
> I have a tumblr [here](http://buckybdarnes.tumblr.com/) if you wanna check that out.
> 
> Un'beted so any mistakes are my own, please tell me if you find any.
> 
> _Note: Talks of rape throughout, and a brief description of rape about halfway through._

“Get the fuck away from me!” Steve was howling, thrashing around in bed as Dr Banner looked on, one hand on his hip, the other to pinch between his eyes.  
  
“Steven, you need morphine.”  
  
“I don’t need any of your fucking drugs.”

Steve had been in the Barnes household for two weeks. It had gotten to the point where he would only let Bucky tend to him. Stark had only come in when he was unconscious, setting his leg right and putting it into a cast.   
  
“I know him” Stark had said while putting on the cast the day of Steve’s arrival “He used to roam where mine go. They never had the heart to tell him to shove it.” Stark had finished, wiping his hands on his trousers. “They told me he had left and never came back. I guess now we know why.” He had left with a wave and case of liquor.

The rackets were getting thinner as the police tried to crack down on the alcohol ban. The Barnes gang themselves weren’t a racket themselves, but they knew people who were. Sam Wilson and Clint Barton, nicknamed ‘The Birds’ for when discretion was necessary, were joint heads of the largest racketeers in the country, with Natasha Romanoff and Peggy Carter running their smaller business’. In exchange for booze, Barnes gave protection and connections.

“Steve, I will knock you out so as to give you the morphine myself if you don’t quieten down.” Bucky threatens, looking from the doorway. Steve was a hot head, and was willing to lash out at everything within a ten foot radius if it meant he got his way. That much had been evident as the two weeks had slowly been dragged out.  
  
“You won’t” Steve stops thrashing, going on to smirk “You wouldn’t dare, all your threats have been empty.” While he’s distracted Dr Banner had ducked in, sticking the needle into the boy’s arm. From there the doctor leaves the room with Steve barking out in shock, grumbling angrily to himself.

Ignoring the outraged squawk from the bed, Bucky follows, holding the doctor back by his arm just outside the door.  
  
“I’m sorry, I really am Dr Banner. He’ll be out of your hair soon I promise you.”  
  
“Barnes, he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”  
  
“I know, but I don’t want his death on my hands. I never should have taken him in.”  
  
“At least you know.” Banner nods before making his way out. Grousing under his breath.

“Steve, you want to get out of here don’t you?” When Bucky goes back into the room, he barely let’s Steve talk. “You want to get better?” He storms to the bottom of the bed, hands gripping the railing at the bottom as he stares Steve down.

He was tired, and his patience was running extremely low. He needed to be ready and out of the house within fifteen minutes for a raid and the stubborn blonde was making things difficult.

“I cannot believe you are acting this way. You’re like a child. I am trying my very best to get you out of here and you do this to repay me? Throw tantrums and mistreat my doctor and good friends! You are rude and insufferable and I for one am very willing to throw you out on your ass so help me. I thought I was being kind to help you, but instead I see that I was blind and stupid to take in somebody so willing to die.” Bucky looks down at Steve again, the man was now hunched over, scowling twist to his mouth as he let Bucky’s words wash over him.

Bucky waits, breathing uneven after his rant as Steve slowly looks up.

“Foda-se!” He spits, it landing on the bed a few centimetres from Bucky. The Gaelic is hard to understand, but Bucky gets the sentiment.

Heat rises to Bucky’s face, and he can feel his anger rising with it so he storms out, slamming the door behind him.

“Watch the fucking door, I don’t want him leaving. If he tries to get out then shove him downstairs. I’ll take him to Pierce if needs be when I get back.” The guards look on but nod, staying silent as Bucky goes into his own room.

It’s cold in his room, which he’s thankful for as he tugs on the collar of his suit. He rubs gently at the seam between his shoulder and metal arm through his shirt, easing the ache that had built up before he goes to fill his holster. The raid was on one of Pierce’s hideouts within the Barnes area, he was hoping there would be a large stash there, whether that be alcohol or drugs. Anything they could loot they would, anyone there Bucky would happily take down. He was only taking his small team, they would be enough regardless.

Readjusting his holster he leaves his room, thumping downstairs to wait by the front door, buttoning his jacket.

“You ready boys?” He asks the Howling Commandoes as they gather round the door.

“You’re damn right.” Dugan smirks back, taking the safety off his gun as Bucky leads them outside to the cars.

He had his full team with him, and that’s enough to put a grim smile on his face as they get driven to the place. Everybody’s quiet, checking their gear as the clicking sounds of bullets fills the moving car.

“You know the drill.” Bucky explains as they reach the hollow looking building. They had been on enough raids before to know exactly what everyone was doing.

“Jim, you drive the car around, keep the engine running.”

“Yes Coro.” Jim hangs from the front seat out the window,

“Dugan, you keep my six.”

“Aye Coro.” Dugan resets his bowler hat, causing Falsworth to roll his eyes as he catches the movement.

“And boys,” He smiles, devilishly at the group, “Let’s have a little fun huh?”

The building is derelict as they walk in, things just left around. They must have known Bucky was coming.

“Split up, stay in your pairs.” Morita orders. There were only three floors, no basement, and no attic.

Bucky takes the ground floor, listening to his men go up the stairs. His gun feels right in his hands, heavy in that familiar way. Nobody speaks as they look, Dugan keeping watch of Bucky’s back as Bucky storms into the back room.

He can feel a manic grin spread across his face as he runs into a scrambling pair, both fumbling for their guns. Bucky shoots them point blank before they can even get a chance to aim. They go down without a sound, only the crack of the gun reverberating around the small walls. All the tension drains out of his body as he directs Dugan to grab everything, money drugs and a few cases of liquor.

“Take them back out to the car.” He’s already heading back out, ready to check the other rooms. He wished someone would take a swing at him, just so he could get out his frustrations. Leaving the dead bodies where they are, he goes to the second room, not finding anything.

The third room gives him what he needs, a feisty middle aged mobster who aims straight for Bucky’s face with nothing but a pair of brass knuckles. Bucky takes the hit, the metal cracking his jaw and splitting his chin before he’s fighting back, lashing out with his fists first before he can even think about his gun.

The metal arm packs a punch, and they’re both pretty matched in the metal department. But Bucky was Don for a reason. He may have a split jaw, and there was blood clouding his vision, probably needed stitches, but he knocks the guy onto his knees, the man looking the worse out of the pair, before Bucky’s shooting the man too. Right in the gut.

“So, you gonna tell me why you’re in my territory?” He’s running on adrenaline and not much else, so the terrified eyes of the man must mean he’s smiling. “Cause, you obviously knew we’d come and fuck you up.”  
  
“Fuck. You.” The man spits, getting blood on Bucky’s trousers. Bucky just tuts, getting his gun out once again and cocking it to the man’s head.  
  
“And here I was, giving you a chance for final words.” There’s the shot and a splatter of blood before he’s on his way back out.

“You alright Coro?” Gabe asks and Bucky just shrugs.  
  
“Had worse, are you all okay?” He looks them over, wiping the blood in his eye away so he can see them better. They all look fine, Morita is holding a few crates of booze, and Dugan has some magazines stuffed into his pockets.  
  
“The rest of the stuff is in the car.” Dugan assures. “We done here?”  
  
“Yeah we’re done, let them find the bodies whenever.” Bucky waves his metal hand, before spitting onto the floor. “Lets go.”

He’s not in too much pain, but his jaw feels wonky and the bleeding is getting annoying. He would have to stitch it up. So he’s quiet, hearing the crates rattling in the boot while his men chatter and laugh.

There’s still traces of adrenalin running through him when he gets back, leaving Dugan to sort out their haul, he goes straight upstairs to his room. The guards aren’t outside the door, so he assumes they dragged Steve downstairs, leaving him to freely enter the room and go over to his en suit. He swears one of his ribs is broken while he looks for his first aid kit, so he takes his bulky jacket and shit off to check before doing anything else. Even with the blood in his eyes.

“Mother fucker.” He hisses when looking down at his torso, he’s bruised in places, and he can see that his ribs popped out a little. “You’re fucking kidding me right now.” He shifts, trying to wiggle the discomfort from his ribs before sighing when it doesn’t work. He’d just have to live with it. From there he goes to get his needle and thread from the kit, wincing and cursing as he stitches up his eye in the dim lighting. It stings like hell but he powers through it, cleaning up after himself with a washcloth that rings out bloody. Then he re-sets his jaw with a shout that he hopes is muffled from the rest of the house. All he wants is to sleep, his body aches and his head was thumping. But he had to get re-dressed, try and get the blood stains out of his clothes and show his face again. He had a gang to run.

So he stumbles back into his bedroom, shirtless and groaning before a cough gets him to turn around.  
  
“I thought I got the guys to watch the door?” Steve was sitting up, arms crossed with a look that could be worry if Bucky squinted, graced upon his pale face.  
  
“You alright there?”  
  
“You don’t care, go back to sleep.” Bucky couldn’t be bothered with Steve’s insolence today. Not when he wanted to collapse.  
  
“You’re right.” There’s a shuffling sound “But I could help you if you wanted.”  
  
“Go the fuck to sleep.” The small offer of help wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t benefit Bucky at all so he growls his refusal.

“You don’t want help?”  
  
“Not from you, you little shit.” Bucky bites, searching his draws and wardrobe for fresh clothes.   
  
“You wanted to help me.”  
  
“And you refused my damn help so I’m doing the same.”   
  
“Alright then.” Bucky couldn’t figure the man out as he goes back to lying down. Why was he offering help? Why was he, for once, showing some semblance of kindness.

Pushing it aside, Bucky goes back to the en suit to dress, checking his wounds one last time before turning the light off and leaving the bathroom. Steve wasn’t asleep by the sounds of it, so Bucky sighs and swallows his pride.  
  
“I’m sorry, that was incredibly rude of me. I don’t like it when you speak to me in that manner so I don’t expect you like it either.” He pauses, drawing breath “I apologise for my behaviour. Do you need anything?”  
  
“Water? Please.” Steve sounds soft, and maybe the less harsh tone was getting through to the man. So Bucky goes to get him a glass of water from the sink in the en suit, taking it over to Steve who was struggling to sit back up.

He helps Steve in an instant, being gentle with Steve’s wounds He didn’t heal like Bucky, Bucky healed quickly and effectively, he seemed to be immune to pain at this point, being so used to it. Steve was different, soft.

“Why do you help me?” Steve asks, once he’s managed to take a long and slow drink. Bucky lets himself watch the bob of his adams apple, the way water seeps down Steve’s chin as he tries to take a mouthful too big for him.

“I don’t know.” He admits, but it was only a half truth. The truth about his attraction is one he could barely admit to himself. So he stays quiet and stretches instead, going to get a new shirt to put on.

“Where are you going?” Steve questions, and he looks a little scared as he says it.

“Does my leaving distress you?” Bucky’s surprised to say the least, Steve didn’t seem to scare easily.

Steve frowns then “No. But they start when you leave.”

“Start what?” Bucky is concerned now. He had only known this man for two weeks, but he knew how easy it was for Steve to mask his figure. Behind the cocky and abrasive exterior was somebody who was terrified of everyone/s every move. Tonight had been the first time Bucky had seen something softer within Steve’s personality. Maybe it was because he had shown weakness first.

“The taunting, the touching.” That’s all he has to say. And it’s all he does say before he seems to remember himself. “Not that it’s any of your business what your guards do to me.”

The lack of guards at the door now make sense, as well as the hatred towards certain members of the gang. Or well, the more volatile display of hatred.

“Are you telling me some of my men raped you?” And maybe he sounds harsher than he means to, but he had very strict policies in his gang. And rape was one of the punishable offences. They respected people in the Barnes gang. They were meant to be elegant and respectful. Not low lives who needed to hurt and violate people to get off.

“Well.” Steve stutters around his answer.

“Who was it?” Bucky was furious. “I won’t tolerate that in my gang. My familia are not, and never will be, rapist or abusers. Not to somebody who is supposed to be in their care.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, and Bucky starts pacing around the room.

“Steve, tell me and they will rot.” He doesn’t stop pacing until Steve offers up a few names and descriptors.

“There’s a fat guy with dark hair, nearly down to his shoulders.”

“Jones.”

“An Italian guy, he’s got a gold tooth at the front.”

“Lamir.”

“And then this other one, he’s really old. He wears a really weird green tie all the time.”

“Dante.”

All three were part of the group who didn’t want to see Bucky succeed. Of course they turned out to be rapists. Bucky wouldn’t be sorry to see them go.

“Do you want me to make them suffer?” He could, he could leave then strung up for says if he wanted. And he wants to. He’s absolutely disgusted that some of his men feel that they can do that and go unpunished. Especially to somebody he was caring for. Rape was, in his opinion, one of the worst offenses.

“No.” Steve just shakes his head, and even at Bucky’s imploring look doesn’t offer a reason for why.

“I am going to come back with your dinner. But before that, I’m going to shoot the fuckers in the heads.” Not waiting for a reply, he goes to get his handgun. He was barely dressed, and his men rarely saw him without a jacket and hat, but his blood was boiling.

Maybe he hated them so much due to what had happened to his mother.

_He had been young, only about six, with just him and his mother in the house at the time. The gang had gone out, probably on a raid. With only one guard left by his father to keep them both safe. They hadn’t needed it, his mother was a sharp shooter and he was going to learn about defence soon enough. They would have been safer without the man there._

_The man. The disgusting piece of shit, had pushed him down while grabbing his mother around the waist, lifting her skirt and teasing her while she struggled. Bucky had hit his head, hard on the tile of the kitchen. And could barely do anything to help as the man had violated his mother, right before his eyes. She had been crying, screaming and bleeding. He had tried to stop him, getting up in his woozy state to try and push him off, or do something. They were lucky his father had come home early. Shooting the fucker in the back before whisking her away for some quiet._

_Bucky had been given a biscuit, some juice and his first weapons handling lesson that evening._

They all must hear him coming down the stairs, and they must presume there’s something wrong as all are stood up when he enters the main quarters. All three of the men he wants are there. Perfect.

“What’s wrong boss?” Dugan asks, reaching out a hand.

“There are three rapists in this room, and they’re going to be shot.” His voice is calm, despite his pent up anger, and he’s very thankful to see that only the three men in question flinch.

“Jones, Lamir and Dante.” The voice that comes out of his mouth seems too hard to be his own. “You three, raped the man upstairs. The man, who is lying helpless in bed.” From the corner of his eye he can see Dugan’s face contort with disgust as he drops his hand and turns to the three men himself.

The quiet in the room is deafening.

“Sir, he’s just a prostitute.” Date is the one to crack the silence first.

“And that makes it okay? Completely taking over somebody’s body just so you can get your kicks?”

“Well no.” Dante stuttered, looking over his shoulder. “But that’s what he’s made for.”

That’s the last straw for Bucky. He draws his gun, safety off, and shoots Dante straight between the eyes. He’s quick to shoot the others too, and all three drop with dull thud on the carpet.

“Nobody is made for that.” His voice had gone soft as he looked at the bodies, and it’s hard for him to pull himself back into Don mode.

“This is what happens when you rape somebody. Whilst you’re in my gang, you will do no such thing. If I find out that anybody.” He’s gesturing with his gun, safety on of course, but he’s not sure if his men know that. “Has raped someone. You will meet the same fate as these three pieces of shit.”

Lowering the gun, he looks at the faces around him. “Somebody clean this up, and bring me Steve’s meal.”

He doesn’t say much to Steve when he drops the food back upstairs. He just leaves it on his bed before going back downstairs to eat with his men. They needed the reassurance that he was there for them. They were good people, he never wanted to terrify them. It was good for them to have a healthy dose of respect for him, but he never wanted to scare them. They were still his family and his friends.

It was his turn to watch for the night, sending the majority of his men home. Only Dugan stays, shaking his head as Bucky tries to insist he goes home.

“You were always good at this, rallying and talking to people. Scaring them.” They’re sharing beers in the low light of the kitchen.

“I never wanted to.”

“Yeah, you’re too soft hearted.” Dugan just smiles, ruffling Bucky’s hair. And of course he knows. Bucky was never anything but transparent to his group.

“Shut up.”

“Never pipsqueak.”


End file.
